


Book 2: Fist of Stone

by BepisPerfected



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls Online, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:15:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29131683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BepisPerfected/pseuds/BepisPerfected
Summary: The continuation from Book 1
Collections: Paar Jun; a Biographical Account of Ambition





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Appendix of terms: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29132244

#  Book 2: Fist of Stone

As recorded by Dremora Tzukyl, Palace Scribe.

##  Chapter 1

For every success of the Reclamation, their enemies suffered. The Nords were exasperated to find that the Reach had once again ceded and looked to High King Ulfric Stormcloak for guidance. He was no stranger to conquering Markarth, and immediately rallied troops to march for the Reach. With Jarl Thongvor's death at the hands of the Forsworn, he joined the rest of his family as casualties of their rebellion, with too few sources to suggest otherwise. However, rumors from farmers in the hills attested that a dragon had been present at the battle, some even believing that it had joined the Reachmen's cause. Ulfric was furious at the loss of what he considered rightful Nordic territory, and decided to take an old symbol of the High Kingship to remind them of their place in the Province. He capped his cloud-grey hair in the ceremonial Jagged Crown, and proclaimed that so long as it remained upon his brow the west of Skyrim would remain Skyrim.

He gathered an army of the best warriors in his capital of Windhelm and on the 1st of Hearthfire 4E 212 began their march west. The war party had barely made it past the border from Eastmarch hold into the Pale when a trio of dragons were spotted. A muddy brown dragon, a green blood dragon, and a bright white frost dragon roared down from the mountains and set upon the soldiers. The lesser Dov harassed the war party while the white one swooped down and snapped up the High King, carrying him kicking and shouting away. The Nords despaired, sure that their High King had been killed, though some like Ulfric’s housecarl were not so ready to announce his death. Galmar Stone-Fist and the other zealous Stormcloaks chased westward after the dragons for the Skyborn mountain range on the other side of the Pale, where they believed it had taken him. They lost sight of the beasts after many hours of raging pursuit and were forced to rest in the ruins of Korvanjund, where they had first discovered the Jagged Crown nearly twelve years before. Some of the Nords began to question the possibility that even the legendary Ulfric Stormcloak could survive a night against a single dragon, let alone three, though Galmar was unrelenting in his conviction. Over the next few days, he scoured the peaks of the range, shredding his hands climbing the rocks just to catch a glimpse of any dragon, while his followers slowly gave up hope of finding him and one by one returned home.

On the fourth day, Galmar discovered Eldersblood Peak high above the campsite of his loyal few. He bounded up the cliffside ahead of them and found a lone dragon waiting for him, though it was not one he had seen before. On its back was reddish Argonian with his face hidden behind the solemn contempt of an amber mask, holding the prized Jagged Crown in his scaly hands. He gestured to the blue body of Ulfric Stormcloak below, surrounded by the black ice of long-frozen blood, and mentioned that he had died a warrior’s death, fighting all three dragons and killing two before succumbing to his wounds. The High King was a hero, but a dead one no less. The Stone-Fist rushed the dragon with a grieving fury, but the pair flew off before he could strike. He screamed at them to come back and face him while the other Stormcloaks arrived. They found him raving and vowing vengeance upon the lizard who stole the Jagged Crown. Once he had calmed down enough to speak comprehensibly, he told the other Nords of how Ulfric had killed a pair of dragons before dying, though they noted that there were no other corpses on the mountain aside from that of the High King. Still, they returned his body to Windhelm and left Galmar to take the position of Jarl of the city in his stead.

The old warrior was so overcome with mourning and anger at the death of his friend that he forgot about the Reach and devoted himself to finding the mask-lizard Crown-thief. He became immediately suspicious of every Argonian as a plant of the High Elven Thalmor or spy for the Imperial Empire, all somehow connected to the lizard on the mountain. Occasional groups of Argonians were spotted deep into the wilds of Eastmarch, armored in their imposing greensteel, and hunters out of Windhelm reported strange plumes of smoke emanating from the Orc stronghold to the south of the city. Those fools who had tried to investigate further had not returned, and Galmar became increasingly public about his suspicions as to the Argonian involvement in the murder of the previous Jarl, insisting that they were festering in the hills and under the water. Rumors of Black Marsh beverages circling around the taverns of Skyrim he viewed as poison designed to kill even more, and banned them from entering the city. He thundered down to the Windhelm docks on the suspicion that they were breaking his ordinance, only to find that the Argonian dockworkers had disappeared in the middle of the night. He took this as confirmation of his conspiracy, though others in the city presumed that they had fled for their lives after hearing news of his furious rants.

Galmar wasted no time in proving his intent to expose the threat he was convinced lurked in the shadows, having men take to arms and occupy the nearby fort of Movunskar. The Stone Fist also wanted to bolster the historic Fort Amol even farther to the south, but the threat of disappearing patrols and mysterious lizardmen seen near the roads held him back until he could muster a larger force. Instead, he marched through the wilds of the hold at the head of fellow veteran Stormcloaks to try and find evidence to support their claims. Orcs from Narzulbur occasionally went into town to buy material they could not acquire within the stronghold and had heard of Galmar’s decrees. When the marching Nords neared, they were ready. The Reclamation Argonians hid within the mine while Magrah met the Jarl at the gate. Galmar accused the Orcs of aiding the murder of Ulfric Stormcloak by helping the Argonians, which she stated was preposterous. When he demanded to know why they were making so much armor, she replied it was to protect the stronghold should any pig-headed Nords try to come stomping through it with more than just accusations. Magrah continued that unless they wanted to spill blood unoffended, they should move on. Galmar and his forces left in a huff, and he spat that the hold would be better off if they just tossed the green-skinned brutes out. Narzulbur remained on edge for the rest of the day, though by next dawn operations had returned to normal.

Across the province in Solitude, Elisif took the new Jarl’s proclamations against Argonians as a personal attack on her city’s favorite ambassador. Lozok’s seemingly endless supply of refreshment had only increased his popularity amongst the locals, and he was even able to coax a smile out of the otherwise pensive Jarl, earning himself a level of defense against the infectious rhetoric of the Stone-Fist. During one of his many visits to the Palace, she confided in him that she would do her utmost to ensure no such baseless sentiment would take root her city. Still, she could only watch as a wave of Nordic supremacy washed over Skyrim once more. Stone-Fist sympathizers in the city of Riften were seen harassing the Argonian citizens of the town, and in Morthal the town was calling for the exile of the Jarl’s Argonian steward. The An-Xileel bulked up their defenses of Narzulbur, with soldiers hiding amongst the trees to put down any scouts that wandered too close, but that did little to interfere with production. In fact, they even encouraged a few Giants to make the journey to the stronghold so they could be fitted for armor. Both the orcs and their massive guests were wary of the other, having been feuding for time immemorial, though the Reclamation guards ensured their uneasy truce held.

While Jun was orchestrating coups, his sister was in the Reach maintaining order. Forsworn camps had lagged in their supply of furs and Nahkiir had set out with her trusted soldiers to investigate why. Upon arriving in one of their redoubts, they learned that a rare red dragon had been attacking everything and anything across the sundered hills. With the staunch Dov Reinhahlok in Markarth to help Tsuchus keep the peace and lowly Tusuah helping Jun kidnap High Kings, this dragon had taken advantage of the power vacuum and was seen roaring up and down the crag, presumably in an attempt to carve more territory for himself. Nahkiir scoffed at the recklessness of such an act, and roared a challenge in the Tongue into the sky. The Forsworn were manic, wondering why she would bring a dragon down on their heads, though she paid them no mind. Inevitably when the beast arrived to confront his challenger, the flint-faced warrior ordered even her own soldiers to stay back so she could face him alone, a true test of her Ziirokein. The dragon was thin and lithe, with deep red scales, flat as they were sharp, and blue-violet wings. Nahkiir and the beast duelled through the night, claws cutting through her scales as the twin moons rose, and axe slicing through his when they set once more. Dawn light revealed a hillside soaked red. The Mulzeymah stood, barely, over the shuddering form of a great blood clot given breath. Exhausted and beaten, the dragon acknowledged the ferocity and skill of his opponent and bowed to her, offering his name: Riigahliiv. Nahkiir accepted the surrender and commended him for a worthy battle, ordering her field healers to tend to him first as a sign of mutual respect. The Reachmen were glad to know their land was safe once more, though none dared go near the pacified dragon to thank the Xiuthan herself.

A fortnight after Morvunskar had been occupied, on the 22nd of Hearthfire, a group of An-Xileel soldiers strayed by the town of Morthal where a mob viciously cut them down and paraded their bodies as evidence of Galmar’s truth. Lozok wasted no time in mentioning to Elisif that his brother belonged to an organization that could help to quell the disturbance in Morthal, though he eluded mention of its name. The Jarl agreed, hoping that by helping her closest hold she could bring some measure of peace back to Skyrim. Paar Jun celebrated the news, though of course, he had orchestrated it all. It was a convenient way to dispose of a number of Argonian criminals, a few sets of obsolete greysteel, and give him the means to show his organization’s strength.

In the dead of night six days later, a large force of An-Xileel warriors made their way under the frozen marshy waters to surround the town. As dawn was breaking, they leapt onto the shore and put a blade to the neck of every single guard in sight. Jun and Krahvenaak landed on the roof of Highmoon Hall, where he decreed they surrender or die in vain, citing they should save their sword arms for battles to come. A few fools tried to attack or flee and were cut down, through the rest were stripped of weapons and herded together into the longhouse. The inhabitants of Morthal awoke to a dozen An-Xileel soldiers outside each home. Jarl Sorli the Builder found Paar Jun sitting on her throne with Nahkiir at his was side, with her own tamed Dov perched atop the inn.

The pair of Mulzeymahhe then had the citizenry of Morthal brought before them. Jun explained that he was not happy to hear about the slaughter of his men, and wanted the perpetrators brought forward. A brash drunkard by the name of Hramvad was blamed for riling up the town, and Jun politely asked the Jarl why she had not indicted him for murder of the Argonians. They had committed no offense to the townsfolk besides strolling in their vicinity, after all. Sorli insisted that she did not know who had led the mob, though her conviction in such a statement was lacking. Hramvad was knelt before the throne, where he spouted that Jun was the mask-lizard from Galmar’s rants. Jun ignored him and instead turned to his sister and asked what she presumed would be a just punishment for inciting the murders. Nahkiir pretended to consider the question for a moment, then yanked the Nord’s head back and ripped out his throat with her teeth. The inhabitants of the Hall turned away from the gory spectacle, though Jun remained as composed as ever. He told the Jarl calmly that he was glad to have brought some level of justice to the town, and suggested that they had an understanding that he would not hesitate to bring further justice down should it be necessary. She spat at him that once word of their takeover got out, Solitude would send a force to oust them. Jun laughed and stated plainly that he _was_ the force from Solitude.

Among the An-Xileel soldiers gathered in the town, Nahkiir had also brought her trusted, including her childhood friend and most accomplished hunter, Keksa. While the Koh-Nassa were inside doing their best to intimidate the town into compliance, she was organizing the troops stationed outside. When Jun emerged, she reported to him that the Jarl supposedly had connections to a nearby iron mine, according to a scout report, and suggested they send a detachment to waylay their shipments from Solitude to the Great Lift at Mzinchaleft for transport to Narzulbur. Jun was impressed by her initiative, though cautioned her to only take a percentage so as not to raise suspicion. Still, he was inclined to reward her leadership. He promoted her to Warden, a title he also wished to bestow upon Veysan, and instructed her to ensure the town remembered to behave. She was to turn the settlement into a stronghold so they could transfer cargo and non-essential operations there from Sea-Brine.

Of the residents of Morthal, the wizard Falion proved most interesting. The mage had immediately recognized the daedric influence on Jun upon meeting him, far stronger than the others in his Cult. He proved exceptionally knowledgeable about a variety of fringe topics, and the Xiuthan offered to guarantee the safety of his sister Jonna and apprentice Agni if he would work in the tower of Mzark alongside Hahfrin. Rather than send his family away to the safety of Solitude, as Jun originally intended, Falion wanted to keep them close by. Nahkiir suggested that Jonna’s experience as an innkeeper would make her ideal as a caretaker in the Btharzaleft barracks, and an aspiring mage like Agni would serve well assisting Hahfrin and his artificer team. Jun approved of this deal and the three were escorted out of Morthal by a group of An-Xileel. Their business concluded, the Koh-Nassa too departed the city and left Keksa in charge. While Jun and Krahvenaak returned to Mzark to plan their next move, Nahkiir took Riigahliiv north to personally reward Veysan with his promotion. 


	2. Chapter 2

##  Chapter 2

The Reclamation incursion at Morthal went mostly unnoticed by the rest of Skyrim. The town was rather insubstantial and its contributions barely missed. Still, word of their attack on the Argonians beforehand had already begun to spread widely, and the supposed Massacre of Morthal only urged Galmar on. The town of Falkreath in the southwest began to escalate their defenses in response to rumors of patrolling lizards in the night. They hired hunters, mercenaries, and wandering adventurers to be archers and scouts, cut down swaths of the forest to build wooden watchtowers, and bolstered their hold guards with solid steel armor and heavier weapons. The Jarl of Falkreath, a frail elderly Nord by the name of Dengeir, even unwittingly employed bandits. Contacts from some of his nephew’s less honorable dealings agreed to join the city’s defense, hoping to make a profit off a cushy job far from the fighting. Windhelm and Morthal were both separated from Falkreath by the large central Whiterun hold, and only sparse Argonian activity had ever rumored to take place there.

Jun, upon hearing the news, took this as a challenge. Lozok had revealed to his brother that in the aftermath of the province’s civil war over a decade prior, the previous government had been exiled to the Blue Palace in Solitude where they remained. The deposed Jarl was useless to the Reclamation, but his High elf steward Nenya was supposedly knowledgeable about the hold’s complexities. Jun asked her to return to Falkreath to assist with some business, as he hoped her expertise would be invaluable.

Meanwhile, Jun called upon his Forsworn and Giant allies and met them at the northwest edge of Falkreath hold with a detachment of An-Xileel from the Great Lift at Nalzthdbar. Ulkrah Blackplume the Hagraven brought her briarheart bodyguard and a small army from her clan of Reachmen. Gerthok the Tower came accompanied by three more Giants all armored in swirling brilliant greensteel. Their strategy was simple: Nahkiir would lead the An-Xileel from the back of Riigahliiv and Paar Jun would act as field commander, surveying the battle from the back of Krahvenaak. The numerous Forsworn were assigned to the front lines, with the Giants following in as the secondary wave. The An-Xileel would take the rear, filling gaps in the Reachmen line. Riigahliiv and Krahvenaak were to use their strength and Tongue to draw the guards' attention so the ground forces could more easily overwhelm them. On the 12th of Frostfall, they marched for the city.

Falkreath’s hunter scouts discovered the army the Reclamation had assembled and fled to the Jarl in fear. Jarl Dengeir told his guards to defend Falkreath to the last, while he would escort the civilians to Fort Neugrad to the southeast so they could be safe. They had left the eastern gate mere moments before the army started their attack from the northwestern front. The Forsworn were first to charge, rampaging down the hills towards the gates, but the archers on their wooden fortifications killed and wounded many of them before they could reach the town. However, their arrows bounced uselessly off Gerthok’s thick armor as he ran for one of the towers. With one fell swoop of his greensteel hammer he shredded the foundations, causing the hunters to fall to their deaths either from the landing or the frenzied blades of the swarming Forsworn. The rest of the Giants pounded on the other towers until they too collapsed. The Reachmen now met the heavy hold guards, who could endure far more of their brutality and dish it out in equal spades. Despite this, the guards were hopelessly outmatched by the An-Xileel and Giants, as standard steel could not compete with their improved green counterpart. Those who tried to flee as the tide turned against them had their armor turned to ovens by a quick stream of dragonfire.

When it was revealed that the town had been abandoned, Paar Jun ordered his men to loot the longhouse for gold, food, or valuables. Weapons, armor, jewels, and piles of gold were gathered in the center of town, along with the throne of the Jarl. Satisfied with their haul, Jun then decreed the building be torched. The two Mulzeymahhe and their Dov spat flames from the sky while the Forsworn and their Hagraven used fireballs to light the roof on fire. The structure burned brightly, though continued to stand even as its timber was blackened and consumed. Gerthok decided to put an end to its defiance, and boldly charged headfirst through the blazing building. He crashed through the other side and roared victoriously, flames peeling off his scorched armor as it collapsed behind him. Cinders from the longhouse danced in the air like thousands of fireflies and nestled into the thatch roofs of the rest of the town. The straw caught fast and flames rose from every building, though the whipping mountain gusts of the Falkreath valley stanched them to a smolder almost as quickly as they had first burned. Cinders littered the streets in great drifts, though many of the structures were not beyond repair.

Satisfied with their destruction, the two Koh-Nassa had to decide what would be their new fortress to secure their claim to Falkreath hold. Nahkiir noted the presence of a sizeable ruin in the Shriekwind peaks to the immediate north that would provide a large and defendable stronghold to act as their new hold capital. Jun still had his sights set on the current Jarl of Falkreath. The Nords would not acknowledge their victory while he still lived, though he agreed with his sister that a territorial claim was equally important. It was decided that Nahkiir would take Riigahliiv, the Reachmen and half of the An-Xileel to Shriekwind to clear it out while Jun would take Krahvenaak, the Giants and the rest of the Argonians to hunt down Dengeir.

With Jun on Krahvenaak, he was able to track the fleeing residents of Falkreath while his forces marched farther back. The terrified citizens arrived at the southern Fort Neugrad less than an hour before the Reclamation army, sheltered inside the fort while the paltry Stormcloak soldiers stationed there worked to bolster their defenses. It was in vain, as the arriving Giants made short work of the pitiful fortifications and smashed through the gates. Krahvenaak landed on the tall intact tower and roasted the soldiers while the An-Xileel rampaged through the yard of the fort. Within a matter of minutes, the outmatched survivors surrendered. Eventually the Jarl peeked out of the fort to find the Trunk-Warden waiting for him, sitting on a pile of corpses. He called the Jarl a coward and a fool, and blamed the deaths of these good warriors on his desertion. Dengeir stating defiantly that while the Argonians could kill his people and force them from their homes, they could never break the spirit of the Nords, for it was as hardy and resilient as the stones of the fort in which they stood. Jun laughed and motioned to Gerthok, who reduced the other tower to rubble with a single mighty swing from his hammer.

Broken and hopeless, the people of Falkreath were marched home. Dengeir knelt down and cried at the crackling ruins of the longhouse and the rest of the populace similarly lamented their charred houses and businesses. Some were just lucky not to have their roofs caved in, though others were not so fortunate. Even in late autumn, the frigid nights of Skyrim were enough to kill any fool who found themselves without adequate shelter. Those who would otherwise be left to the elements accompanied the rest of the army as they continued on their way to Shriekwind.

Nahkiir had successfully cleared out the ruin and moved all of the loot from the town there, waiting for her brother to return. Paar Jun then thanked Ulkrah for aiding the Reclamation in the sacking of Falkreath and gifted her the pick of their haul as a reward. She had an armful of soul gems and gold collected, as well as the eyes and organs from the corpses of their battlefield. The Hagraven expressed her gratitude and called Jun her most generous ally, promising to assist the Reclamation however she could. The residents of the town were set to work repairing the ruin for the An-Xileel, with certain members being used in their old roles, such as the blacksmith forging nails for scaffolding to support the crumbling walls. Nenya was crucial to repairing the spirits of the townsfolk, guiding them just as she had for years before. The Altmer steward became as much a leader to them as she was an advisor to the An-Xileel, and with her assistance the stronghold turned prosperous. She even aided them in uncovering the history of the ruin, revealed to be Skjoralmor Keep, the grand fortress of Jarl Eerika Skjoralmor built to defend the capital from Reachmen and marauding Orc tribes. Old Falkreath, as it became known, still maintained its farms, mills, and graveyard, though the true power of the hold was definitively in the Keep high above. Dominion over Shriekwind was given to Nahkiir by her brother until he could find a suitable Warden to take over, and word was sent to Hahfrin to send supplies there.

With the conquest of Falkreath, the whole of the western holds were now under Reclamation control. Lozok continued his persuasion of Elisif in Solitude, telling her that the Stone-Fist sympathies had been quashed in Morthal and Falkreath, and that the Forsworn were now ruling peacefully over the Reach. The Jarl was ecstatic and eagerly wanted to meet his siblings to thank them personally, though he managed to redirect her eagerness so as not to expose his family. 

Under Keksa’s command, Morthal had grown into a formidable fortress. Construction and quarrying for her projects injected much-needed wealth into the town, and though the Nords were initially resistant to work for the Argonians, soon even some Orcs and Reachmen had joined the project force because the Reclamation pay was so good. They built large stone walls and short arches over the waterways to allow fishing boats to pass through. Keksa had a Hist tree planted in the center of the horseshoe-shaped town as well, drawing Spriggans to inhabit the waters around it. Almost all but the bare minimum resources from Sea-Brine had been moved, save its compliment of soldiers and Warden.

Sleeping Tree Camp had also grown with the help of the Reclamation. Many Giants and their mammoths moved to the sprawling camp, giving up their nomadic lifestyle for a more sedentary one of animal husbandry in the empty fields around. Crude shelters were constructed out of stitched mammoth hides, tree trunks, stones, and tusks for them to live in. Gerthok was marked as Chieftain of the Sleeping Tree Tribe and converted the nearby cave into a rudimentary ruling hall. Given the importance of the Giants to their efforts, Jun insisted that they be allowed to construct their settlement to their own traditional specifications, only supplying assistance if it was asked. Argonian troops garrisoned with the Giants quickly sensed a connection to the eponymous tree and realized it was an exotic form of Hist. How it had come to grow in the middle of nowhere so far from Black Marsh was anyone’s guess, but they went to great lengths to make sure it remained cultivated and cared for, especially since the Giants seemed wholly uninterested in doing so themselves. Xal-vasteiwo priests slunk from Btharzaleft along Reclamation trade routes to preach their triarchy at both new Hist sites, and while most paid them no mind, the curious occasionally turned to converts. 


	3. Chapter 3

##  Chapter 3

This increase in activity was simultaneously delightful and problematic for Jun. Just as Dengeir was a withered old Jarl stuck to his neck in Nordic traditionalism, so too was the Jarl of the central hold of Whiterun and the city of the same name. Vignar Grey-Mane was as deeply entrenched in the city’s business and culture as could be, and Jun doubted that he could be convinced away or directly removed without getting the city up in arms. Galmar Stone-Fist would march against an exposed enemy the moment he got the chance, and while the Reclamation permitted his continued ravings, they could not have him turning the people decidedly against him. Jun believed the only way to take Whiterun was to use Nordic custom against them.

Deep in the bowels of the Blue Palace, Balgruuf the Disgraced lurked. Once the renowned Jarl of Whiterun, he had been reduced to ratifying the terms of trade documents and ordering bureaucratic paperwork for Solitude’s merchant classes. He existed as little more than the shell of the man he had once been. That was, until he was approached by Paar Jun.

Jun greeted him as Jarl, though the man accused him of mockery and ordered him out of his office. The Xiuthan did not leave, commenting how even lording over one room he remained powerless. Jun said that he had learned much about Whiterun and its previous Jarl from the locals the Reclamation had questioned, and he had been impressed. Balgruuf was known as a noble and honorable Nord in his time, entirely committed to his city. Promises of titles and power held no sway over his rule during the conflicts in which he presided; his loyalty lied with Whiterun, not to himself. He was a selfless ruler and a man of the people, and Jun felt it was a shame to hear he had been taken from his throne. He suggested that, perhaps, it was time he return. With a flick of his tail, he revealed to the destitute Balgruuf the fabled Jagged Crown.

The Nord immediately backed away from him, accusing him of being the mask-lizard Crown-thief Galmar had spoken of in his furious ravings. He whispered under his breath that the amber-faced Argonian before him was the killer of High King Ulfric Stormcloak, almost to confirm the worlds were real. Jun shrugged perhaps, though suggested perhaps too it was time for a new High King. How he came into possession of the Crown was of no consequence, as he noted legendary items had a habit of appearing before the worthy, be it at the will of the gods or otherwise. Perhaps, this was how it would appear before him too.

Balgruuf stared at the helm in disbelief and asserted that his brow was no fit for such a thing. He was no King, not even a Jarl. Some would say he was hardly a Nord. Jun confirmed this may be true, at least as he was, though such an artifact would add legitimacy to a claim for his old title. Then, perhaps, they might reconsider such a determination.

The Nord drew away from the Crown, tempering his eagerness to reverse a decade of gradual grating degradation. He wanted to know Jun’s motives. There were plenty of other ruined Jarls he could crown. Why him? The Trunk-Warden explained cordially that Whiterun stuck like a dagger into the west of Skyrim, and no matter how much blood may flow around the tip it would not become any less foreign to the body. Equally, though, the hilt could be quite an uncomfortable intrusion into the east. He ordered the Xiuthan clarify. Jun stated that whoever held the dagger determined where it pointed. Balgruuf impatiently demanded that he quit speaking in metaphor and state what he wanted. Irritated, Jun told him that he wanted free roam within the hold for his organization, though Galmar’s vendetta against Argonians was putting all his people under scrutiny under old Stormcloak leadership. Moving assets underground was becoming increasingly inefficient as they expanded their reach. The Nord questioned how they could possibly do anything underground, though Jun just smiled and replied that he was building a whole new Skyrim just out of sight.

Balgruuf asked if he represented the Cyrodiilic Empire, at which Jun laughed. The Empire was a lost cause. At one point the central province of Cyrodiil had ruled all eight provinces of Tamriel: Skyrim to the north, Morrowind to the northeast, Black Marsh to the southeast, Elsweyr at the south, Valenwood to the southwest, the Summerset Isles off the Valenwood coast, Hammerfell to the west, and High Rock to the northwest. Now only the Bretons of High Rock remained loyal to the fallen Empire, with the south and southwestern provinces all allied to the Aldmeri Dominion and the rest operating independently in opposition to them.

Galmar and his followers understood the weakness of the old Empire, but they were too grounded in the Skyrim of the past to see the Skyrim of the future. Under the Reclamation, the Nords would be given back the freedom to run their holds in accordance with their own ways. In Black Marsh, each tribe is guided by a Hist, and every Hist is consulted through the interconnectivity of the Marsh when decisions about the province must be made. It allowed them to act as one when needed, such as against the armies of Mehrunes Dagon during the Oblivion Crisis, but equally gave them the freedom to run their own tribes as they wished otherwise. The Reclamation could give the Nords that same sovereignty. They would not be subject to the will of some high Emperor or Thalmor Order; Paar Jun would give them a say in the matters of their lands and was working to unify the civilized races of Skyrim so they could stand strong against a common enemy as such. The Nords would adopt such a movement quicker with a noble High King leading the push, and he believed the redemption of Balgruuf would be a poetic representation of the Reclamation’s goal. Hesitantly, the Nord took the Jagged Crown.

Six days later, on the 24th of Frostfall, the Whiterun guard bore witness to a Giant clad in ferocious green-grey armor with a Nord on his shoulder. As they rallied to attack, the beast placed the man before the gates and announced in broken speech the arrival of Balgruuf the Great. The Nord was clad shoulder to shin in glittering greensteel armor, with the Jagged Crown upon his head and a greatsword on his back. He marched through the city to the shock of the older residents and confusion of the younger, right to the doors of Dragonsreach palace, where he once called home. Bursting inside, he challenged Vignar Grey-Mane’s right to rule under the old ways. The Jarl scoffed at the challenge, stating that they were not warriors anymore, just two old men with grudges against one another. They had fought the same a decade prior, and Vignar asked what more than weak bones did he expect to be different. The challenger attested that Ulfric was not here this time to fight on his behalf. Indeed, he proclaimed, the gods had gifted him the Jagged Crown so he may take back his city.

Vignar, incensed to see the symbol of the previous High King used against him, accepted the challenge and the two met upon the Dragonsreach grand porch. With all of Whiterun hold in their view, the two elders raised their blades. Balgruuf’s greatsword was slow and unwieldly, though Vignar’s age made him unable to take full advantage of it. Metal crashed and clacked against each other as the two dueled, though with one final swing Balgruuf caught the hilt of his opponent’s sword and tossed it off the edge to the wilderness below. With the point of a greatsword leveled at his scowling mustache, Vignar accepted defeat.

As the old Jarl was being escorted out, he caught a glimpse of a reddish Argonian with an unmistakable amber mask walking down the stairs from the grand porch tossing fire between his fingers, though could not have understood how he could have entered from there. Soon after in Windhelm, Galmar received a letter from the deposed Jarl outlining what had happened, with clear emphasis on the reappearance of the Jagged Crown and the witch-lizard he had seen. Immediately the Stone-Fist was convinced that this was the doing of the same Argonian from Eldersblood Peak. He began to rant of the Dragon-riding Crown-thieving Jarl-making Mask-mearing Witch-Lizard and ran to round up troops to march on Whiterun. He shouted and cursed that he would free Whiterun hold from the reptillian menace that had overtaken it, though as he was working to assemble a proper marching force, fierce storms set in. However, they would not weather the delay in boredom. 

Late on the night of the 31st, a beggar and a handmaiden stumbled onto the bridge to the city, seemingly appearing from nowhere out of the blizzard. The beggar was hardly more than a corpse clothed only in a rotting burial shroud, though the maiden was as fair as a grand vista view. She told the guards that the starved man was none other than Dengeir of Falkreath, and soldiers escorted them to the Palace of Kings to be warmed. The elder, though, cowered at the sight of Jarl Galmar. He was delirious and frightened from the journey, and his young companion insisted that he rest and eat to soothe his frozen nerves. After thawing out for some time by the fire and nibbling on leftovers from the Palace kitchens, Dengeir finally had the energy to speak. He told Galmar of what had happened to Falkreath, how his city had been burned and his fort destroyed. He then continued to tell of his time spent in Skjoralmor Keep under the rule of the Argonians.

There was not but one witch-lizard, but dozens, hundreds maybe. He had been faced by one named Nahkiir, who did not fit the description of the Crown-thief, though her black flint mask bore a similar design to his. She ruled the bastion with an iron fist, turning the ruins of their ancestors into her own stomping ground. Reachmen, Orcs, even Giants assisted in the construction of the Keep into a functional settlement. She spoke often but cryptically about using the Keep's overlook as a watchtower, solidifying their hold on Falkreath to dissuade Imperials from entering the province by securing the passage to Cyrodiil. Dengeir was convinced they were working for the Empire, or worse even the Thalmor, and after loudly proclaiming such he was dragged below and caged in the depths of the Keep. There he encountered a group of violet-black women, darker than any Dunmer, who had been hired presumably as torturers. They and Nahkiir were cruel to the old man, depriving him of nourishment for days on end, with nothing more than a drop of water or crumb of stale bread for sustenance, while feasting heartily in direct view and tossing scraps just out of reach. However, this was nothing compared to what they imposed on the poor lumberjack.

From what the old man could gather, Bolund had worked in the local mill before the occupation of Falkreath and hated outsiders with a passion, especially the Argonians. He camped in the ruins of his old home instead of seeking shelter in Skjoralmor and was heard insulting the lizards whenever he saw them. He called them rancid troll dung, skeever food, and a host of equally colorful descriptions of vermin and filth. The soldiers ignored him for the most part, but when he spat at the head lizard-witch and called her a boot, that exceeded the extent of her patience. Bolund was dragged to the depths of the Keep as well to be used as she saw fit. At first, they made him a living training dummy. Nahkiir claimed that the best way to practice fighting Nords was by fighting a Nord, and in doing so she could learn their weaknesses. She was an expert warrior, unarmed and otherwise, though she favored a pair of axes. Occasionally the women even armed the boy, though it never ended differently. She would strike him down all the same, sometimes not letting him give in until he was soaked head to toe in his own blood. Then the mysterious black coven would then heal him again, keeping the lumberjack just at the brink of life but always in pain.

Once she tired of his inexperienced attacks, her abuse only increased. Dengeir believed this was torment by proxy, indirectly torturing the old man by forcing him to watch their brutality upon the boy. After each mutilation, the lizard would insist Dengeir thank her for being so just and merciful, and would invent various titles for him to use when referring to her. Jarl Nahkiir, Warden of Wardens Nahkiir, Gracious Queen Nahkiir, Squire of the Warrior Eternal Nahkiir, Nahkiir of Six-Thousand Fangs, Highest Highness Nahkiir Whose Strength Holds Up The World, among others. The old man was similarly deprived of a name, replaced by the lumberjack’s most creative insults. The witch-lizard would tie Bolund’s wrists together and hang him from the ceiling until he dislocated a shoulder or his wrists bled from the rope, then she and her dark assistants would throw javelins to cut him down, often times hitting him in the process. One time she brought them to the mountain peak where her pet dragon was waiting for them. Dengeir was forced to choose a finger or toe off the man to make up the dragon’s lunch, and when he chose a tiny toe the beast instead snapped Bolund’s whole foot off at the shin, leaving him screaming and legless. Dengeir managed to steal a splinter of bone as they women dragged the boy away, and he used it in secret to pick the lock on his cage. He did not know how many days he spent underground, but eventually he was able to crack the lock and escape. The frail man found Bolund crumpled in a corner wearing nothing but rags and a crude silver necklace. He did not have the strength to carry him out, but neither could he bear to leave him to suffer longer. Using the lumberjack’s own bone, he slit his throat and drove the splinter though his heart to make sure he was entirely dead and the healers could not revive him. Then out from the shadows, the coven emerged and set upon him.

The women dressed him in clean clothes and took him into center of the Keep, which had turned into a fully sprawling settlement. Nahkiir told the gathered townspeople that both Dengeir and Bolund had been undergoing an education in Argonian history and culture to help them be more understanding of outsiders. Artisans and storytellers had come from Sea-Brine Shanty in the north to teach them about life in Black March, in the hopes that they could overcome their bigotry if they only knew more about the people they hated. Nahkiir named names the old Nord did not recognise, suggesting that these mysterious cultural teachers had also appeared to the townspeople, and the positive murmuring from the crowd suggested that these guests were received well. The witch-lizard claimed that Bolund especially was coming around nicely and presented the bloody necklace, evidence, she insisted, of a class in how to craft traditional Argonian jewelry. Nahkiir stated that he had a burgeoning talent for silverwork, and though he would never admit it, clearly enjoyed the art. They slandered Dengeir as a paranoid old man too resistant to change, who brutally butchered Bolund for what he perceived to be siding with the enemy. The Nord yelled out that what he had done was a mercy killing not a murder, and the Argonians were torturing them just out of sight. The wife of the deceased’s brother shouted back that he was an overdramatic and heartless wretch, who had often stated that even working for the Stormcloaks was torture when they did not do what he wanted. Having once been his servant, she attested that he had no right to speak about abuse when he once doled it out in spades. At this, the witch-lizard solemnly offered the necklace and an urn with the man’s ashes to his distraught brother Solaf. The town turned on their old Jarl for such an act of bloodshed and wanted him put to death, but Nahkiir proclaimed that there would be no more blood spilled in the Keep and had him exiled instead. Dengeir could not remember how he had gotten to Windhelm, but he was convinced this was just another trick of the lizard and he was still within her grasp. The old man even yanked Galmar’s beard to test if he was an illusion, convinced that this freedom was just another cruel trick to taunt him and none of it was real.

At this point the handmaiden, Sojja, explained that word of the old man’s murder spread faster than they could walk, and no other town would take him in. They had to sell his fancy clothes and jewelry just to afford to eat. She hoped that friends of the old Stormcloak would show him a little mercy, despite his apparent insanity. The Stone-Fist vowed to burn Falkreath to the ground if what he said was true. However, Dengeir would not have it. He insisted that Skjoralmor was a lost cause, a symptom but not the source. Sea-Brine Shanty was the lizard’s secret dock to the north, and unless they plugged it up the vermin would continue to infest the province. Galmar dismissed the both of them to get some rest with the expectation to discuss more about this ‘secret dock’ in the morning. Such a meeting would never come to pass, as in the dead of night the old man leapt off the walls of Windhelm into the icy river and drowned himself.

In truth, Nahkiir had actually been consulting directly with the Prince of Plots Bo’Weexa to find the most entertaining way to destroy Dengeir to their mutual delight. The Daedra gifted her a group of Mazken, dark seducers trained in the most sadistic forms of deception and sourced from the realm of the God of Madness, to guide and assist her. Nahkiir found their company and brutality delightful, and had delayed Dengeir’s death multiple times to keep them around for longer. Still, they celebrated news of his end and Bo’Weexa saw fit to reward their efforts with a night of revelry and pit fighting in her realm. How Nahkiir had found out about the man’s death, however, was never disclosed.

Furious as to Dengeir’s sudden suicide, the Galmar sent word to his contacts across the north of Skyrim for any information or wandering rumors they might have of a secret dock along the coast. Sojja, having nowhere left to go, requested to join the Palace staff. Though the Jarl was initially suspicious, his steward took pity on her and awarded her the job.


	4. Chapter 4

##  Chapter 4

Pleased with his subtle conquest of Whiterun, meanwhile, Paar Jun set his sights on securing the south of Skyrim. From Narzulbur and its nearby Great Lift, he led a task force of An-Xileel across the lowlands of Eastmarch, up the slopes near the waterfalls of Darkwater river, into Lake Geir near the town of Ivarstead, then down the river to Lake Honrich outside the city of Riften. The main force camped in the Orc stronghold of Largashbur, while a few snuck into the city through the lower waterways and contacted the various Argonians already living there for information on the hold and the people within it. Based on their testimonies, Jun was even persuaded to meet with one of the citizens of the city, though they did so far from the gates. From there, the Xiuthan drew plans for how he would take control of the Rift. He sent Krahvenaak to collect a shipment for him from Tsuchus on the other side of Skyrim and a runner into the city to deliver a letter through the tavern to the influential Black-Briar family. The anonymous correspondence asked them to meet at their lodge in the Velothi mountains on the 9th of Sun’s Dusk to their mutual benefit, though was signed A Competitor and Benefactor of Crowns.

When the Black-Briars arrived, they found their hired guards dead, a squad of An-Xileel in their place, a rust-gold dragon on their roof, and Paar Jun in their dining room with a drained bottle of Argonian ale. Maven, the haggard matron of the family, had come at the head of her two sons Hemming and Sibbi and a group of thugs, though she figured quickly that the Argonian was there to do business. She accused Jun of being the one perpetrating the reptilian swill that was making rounds through the province and stealing business from her meadery. He responded by thanking her for joining him. Jun presented a chest full of silver bars that the Silverscale had provided, which he suggested should more than cover the price of her dead guards and encourage her towards another business endeavor. Maven interjected asking if doing so would mean that the competition disappeared, though he explained rather he was offering sole rights to the production and distribution of Argonian ale, and possiblt even Bloodwine if she was interested. Hemming scoffed at the deal, asking under what right would they need permission to do anything. Maven continued the sentiment, suggesting that even if they had any interest in his proposal, Jun’s paltry silver would hardly be enough to cover initial brewing, and that he was a fool to think that the Black-Briars would front such an expense on their own dime. He countered that given the drinks’ success across Skyrim, the returns would be lucrative, though still the Black-Briars remained staunchly opposed. Jun reminded the family of the dragon weighing down the timbers of their roof. Sibbi growled that he could not touch the family; one misstep and they could have the Thieves Guild rob them blind, Dark Brotherhood assassins slaughter everyone in their holdout, and an Imperial legion garrison the city within a week.

The Xiuthan picked up a knife and began to balance it between his two index fingers, commenting that a week was such a long time when compared to the here and now. Assassins, as well, only worked on contract, and even if she had prepaid for vengeance, no half-brained fool would dare try to fulfill a contract on a dragon even for all the gold in Tamriel. As such, they had no power or leverage in this deal, and their threats were like his bottle. Empty.

Jun pricked his finger on the knife and sucked on it to staunch the bleeding as Maven indignantly got to her feet. Seemingly preoccupied by his tiny wound, she was unprepared when he flicked the knife at her head with the other hand. The blade struck deep into her eye and she keeled over shrieking as the rest of the house exploded into fighting. The An-Xileel cut down the thugs and her sons with only a few injuries, leaving Jun to deal with the helpless old woman. He yanked the knife from her skull, causing her to drop to the ground, then planted it in her back. All she could do was gurgle and twitch as her lungs filled and she drowned in her own blood. Jun had the An-Xileel loot the house for any and all valuables, especially the safes, for within laid the deeds to all the Black-Briar’s holdings. The emptied lodge was then torched, along with all the bodies inside, and the An-Xileel scattered into the wilderness to slip secretly back to Largashbur.

The smoke from the lodge was seen as far away as Riften, but by the time a detachment of hold guards arrived there was nothing left but charred remains and ash. As far as the Riften authorities were aware, the Black-Briars and their goons had tragically died in the house fire. Ingun Black-Briar, who had been otherwise engaged within the city, became the sole inheritor to their fortunes, but because of the blaze much of the legal documentation had gone missing. Word of the family’s demise spread across Skyrim, though Lozok was the first to break the news in Solitude. He innocently mentioned that the Black-Briar Meadery was up for auction in the wake of Maven’s death and wondered if he should buy it to keep up with demand for his ale. His seemingly limitless supply of the drink was actually being restocked by Reclamation runners from the Reach and Morthal drawing on a larger cache in Btharzaleft, though even that was beginning to run low. The court thanes offhandedly remarked that it would be an interesting business endeavor though they doubted much would come of it, each secretly wanting to lay claim to the economic powerhouse themselves. However, by the time that they had gotten their own loyal goons to scope out this supposed auction, the deed had already been transferred into Lozok’s name by a shady Argonian broker within the Solitude.

The Jun and his little brother wasted no time taking charge of the meadery. They renamed it to the Black-Scale Brewery and immediately began production of Black-Scale ale, though maintained output of mead with the same old recipe. As a gesture of good will between Ingun and the new owner of her family’s meadery, Lozok offered to employ her as brewmaster due to her heritage in the business. She was initially resistant, having despised the cutthroat practices of her mother and brothers, though after learning that Lozok was a fellow dabbler in the alchemical arts, she warmed to his offer. He suggested that the same effects they took advantage of in natural flora could be used to enhance the flavors of their drinks. After displaying a clear priority of a quality product, though ensuring it remained profitable, she eventually agreed to his offer. Jun’s select citizen, Lady Mjoll of the People, was chosen to head the security of the brewery, as they anticipated that Maven’s old business partners would not see kindly to the takeover of her estate. Some An-Xileel muscle behind the warrior did not hurt either. However, without Maven’s direct influence and coin the Thieves Guild beneath the city crumbled, and Mjoll headed the push to clear out the corruption from Riften. Workers at the brewery found their working conditions relaxed and their pay improved under the new leadership, and Black-Scale ale flowed out of the city by the carriage load. With coin in everyone’s pockets, the tide of anti-Argonian sentiment was dissolving.

Among the many things the Reclamation discovered in the Rift was the mining village of Shor’s Stone. Its ebony mine would provide much-needed material to assist production in Narzulbur, so Jun had some soldiers sent to bolster its security and encouraged potential miners across the province to take up work there. Given that it lay just south of their main Orc stronghold, they could supply shipments there quite efficiently and without necessitating passage through Blackreach.

In Windhelm, Galmar had been equally busy. His scouts had scoured every snowdrift of the frozen wastes along the northern coast looking for the Argonian’s secret dock. Weeks of failed correspondence paid off when he received word on the that they had discovered the Argonian’s entry point into Skyrim: Sea Brine Shanty, in the western edge of the Pale. A force was assembled to raze the place to the ground, led by the Stone-Fist himself. The troops marched right past the tower of Mzark, where the guards on the overlook were able to raise the alarm. While the Nords rested and gained more men in Dawnstar, the Veysan and his remaining An-Xileel in Sea Brine packed up their weapons into a single large ship. They had planned for a counter revolution even before arriving in Skyrim, and now months later could finally put their plan into action. Large crates of namira’s rot mushrooms were cracked open and placed around the camp along with a healthy dusting of powdered mammoth tusk, and captive deer were killed so their entrails could be strewn across the camp. The Dov Lokkunal was instructed to circle and watch for the army’s approach while a lone warship sailed off into the Sea of Ghosts. Just before the army arrived, early on the morning of the 17th, Lokkunal descended on the camp and destroyed everything in his path, burning fortifications and sinking the smaller ships that remained behind. He made sure to keep a few of the mushrooms in his mouth and set fire to the crates, filling the air with their smoke. The dragon also made sure to fly behind the fires opposite of the approaching army, so the beats of his wings would blow the smoke towards them.

When the Stone-Fist and his men arrived, they witnessed a horrifying sight. Massive raging fires ravaged the landscape around the destroyed Shanty. It seemed the Argonian’s dragon allies had turned on them and destroyed their docks in a horrible bout of rage. The dragon in question was the size of a castle, with a gaping blood-soaked maw that belched fire into the sky. There were still limbs and screaming mangled bodies hanging on to its jagged teeth for their lives. Galmar gave the order to retreat from the beast, while the mighty dragon covered their fleeing tracks with fire. He took to the air and swooped over the retreating army, snatching up their fellow soldiers by the dozens in its giant mouth. They did not even stop back in Dawnstar; the soldiers were so scared that they practically ran all the way back to Windhelm.

What actually transpired was far more lackluster. The dragon roared and set fire to the ground around the army, then followed them for a bit while picking off one or two of the stragglers. Paar Jun and Nahkiir watched it from the sky far above, and laughed so hard that they nearly fell off their dragons. Thanks to a little tip from Lozok, they had learned that burning namira’s rot and powdered mammoth tusk enhanced the fear-inducing effects of both and added a hallucinogenic twist. The army was sizeable enough that they could have taken down Lokkunal with relative ease, and it was hilarious to watch them run like children from a frankly laughable display.

All the while, the Reclamation warship had arrived in Dawnstar, filled to the brim with soldiers and merchandise. They claimed to be a trade ship from Solitude, sent at the behest of Lozok to provide drink and safety to the hold. Warden Veysan mentioned to Jarl Jod the Resolute that they had encountered a gang of pirates called the Salt Bears on their journey, and promptly sent them to the depths. These particular pirates had been menacing Dawnstar for months and had even launched a failed attack on Sea-Brine. After departing their old base, Veysan had taken his ship to the pirate's holdout, and once joined by Lokkunal, Riigaliiv, and Nahkiir, they informed the vagrants that timbers on the sea burn just as well as on land. Sailing into the Dawnstar harbor with fresh wounds from the battle and pirate's spoils evidenced their interpretation of events to the Nords. The Warden and his Argonians were met with mixed opinions by the town, having just sent their best men away to fight them, though the Jarl argued that these travelers had done his town a great service by ridding them of the Salt Bears. Not many would risk their lives for those outwardly hostile to them, off a merchant ship no less, and so such generous and skilled warriors were deserving of respect, lizard or not. Dawnstar was in their debt, and as such, the Jarl proclaimed that the Argonians and their allies would always be welcomed in the Pale.

Establishing themselves in the north, however, now raised a number of problems for the Reclamation. While it had the freedom to move about almost all of Skyrim and one of their primary entry points, the Tower of Mzark, was secured, there was the worry of stretching themselves thin. The An-Xileel had provided the Reclamation with an Invasion Force of capable soldiers, though comparatively few with respect to those that remained in Black Marsh. Permanent squad stations in Morthal, Markarth, Falkreath, Dawnstar, Riften, Sleeping Tree, and Narzulbur required many of their numbers, but far more remained underground to keep Btharzaleft and the roads of Blackreach secure. The Falmer had cut down their forces tenfold compared to any Argonians expended on the surface, and the Xiuthan Warden Kinol made rounds every day at the head of an Extermination Force devoted purely to slaying the degenerated creatures and fighting them back into their holes. Quarantine zones had even been set up around the ancient vampire ruins in the western caverns, to contain the blood starved feral Falmer that infested them. Jun also had his task force of veteran warriors who would join the fighting whenever it needed to occur, their skills better applied on a battlefield than in a garrison, which were considered the Occupation Force. Though their ultimate plan was to use the existing forces of Skyrim to bolster their eventual assault on Morrowind, they were still running low on soldiers to deploy into the remaining holds.

Resource concerns were mounting as well. Even though Reach silver and Rift ale were bolstering the Reclamation with gold, buying food to support their troops and lumber to aid their fortifications was cutting a sizeable chunk out of their funds. Wages to the builders in Mortal and Falkreath or the brewery workers in Riften and Whiterun were not cheap either, particularly to help earn their support, contributing to an even more sizable cost. Thankfully, the Giants at Sleeping Tree had begun to produce surplus stocks of meat and mammoth cheese which they could contribute, and the Reachmen similarly sold the excess of their hunts to ease the burden slightly, though they remained operating at a deficit.


	5. Chapter 5

##  Chapter 5

The situation in Windhelm, however, was only escalating. Galmar was now convinced that the dragons had turned on the elusive witch-lizard, but he could not gain the upper hand to strike so long as he did not know where he lurked. Morthal and Falkreath were potential candidates, apparently under the direct control of the Argonians. Riften could be another spot, cowering behind the fortune brought in through their Black-Scale swill. He could also be hiding with the hag-witches in the Reach, or with those louts in Solitude who were friendlier to outsiders than their own kin. Galmar even suspected he might be in his own city, corrupting Windhelm from within. He saw the mysterious Argonian everywhere, in the shadows when the candles burned low, running down the alleyways when he toured the marketplace, hiding behind the throne and at the edges of his vision. Servants would hear the Jarl roar and come running only to find he had chopped a chair to bits or shredded a curtain in a fit to kill the ever-evasive lizard. He hardly slept, and when he did it was only with a compliment of soldiers at his side to protect him. Without the Argonians on the docks, the city had scrambled to find replacements while ships loaded with cargo were turned away. Trade was strangled and the city suffered. Some of the citizens sided with Galmar and blamed the lizards for their plight, but others looked upon the hysterical Jarl as the source. He was not blind to their stares when he stomped through the city, and caught concerned glances from even the Palace servants. Sojja was the only one of the staff to take him seriously, and Galmar began to trust her judgement over that of his own steward, who he suspected had fallen under the witch-lizard’s spell as well.

On the night of the 5th of Evening Star, after having gone days without rest, the Stone-Fist became embroiled in another one of his frequent rants. He saw a shadow move and pounced upon it with axe in hand, though as his fury faded he saw the body of one of his own guards at his feet. Horrified, Galmar insisted that the witch-lizard had possessed the man, though the other guards were not convinced. He may have been Jarl, but the murder of an innocent soldier was unacceptable. Galmar seethed that they had all fallen under the witch-lizard’s veil. They had tasted smuggled ale and been bewitched against him. Rather than go to the dungeon, he chose to exile himself so he could continue his hunt and gathered his most loyal to follow him out. As he reached the gates, the Stone-Fist proclaimed that he would slay the witch-lizard, then go on to free the Reach, skewer that traitor Balgruuf on his own Jagged Crown, and personally liberate every one of the scale-studded lizard-wretches from their heads.

Whispers in the wind urged Galmar to return to the place where heroes end and corruption begins. He told his group of Nords, including the faithful servant Sojja, that the breath of Kynareth had told him where to go and that the gods were with them. With heads and blades held high, they marched for Eldersblood Peak. Nahkiir notified her brother of the Nords’ procession, and he gave them two days before he collected Krahvenaak to travel to the mountain.

It was deep into the night of the 9th when he arrived, a blistering snowstorm brewing around the mountain. Galmar Stone-Fist was at the summit with battleaxe in hand, swinging and striking wildly with the same ferocity he had shown upon meeting Thalmor forces in the Great War nearly forty years prior. His bloodied blade cleft the air and snow, though none stood around to challenge him. The corpses of his fellow Nords littered the drifts around him, their wounds fresh and blood still warm. Galmar acknowledged none of this, beating back hordes of invisible demons clawing to overtake him. Only when Paar Jun proclaimed his arrival did his axe come to rest, stuck fast in the stone at his own feet. Galmar raised a fist to challenge him for the honor of Skyrim, but Jun did not oblige. Rather, he stated that there was no honor here and gestured to the battlefield on which the old warrior stood. Instantly, the mist cleared from his eyes. The Stone-Fist no longer saw an army of witch-lizards storming the peak, but instead his slain brothers and sisters in arms bleeding out into the snow. He instantly blamed the Mulzeymah for the murder, but Jun stated that only one of them had blood on their hands.

As Galmar struggled to understand how he could have killed them, Sojja stepped out from behind a stone. Jun politely asked her to reveal herself, and the illusion of her appearance dissolved. Her snow-white skin gave way to flesh as black as volcanic rock, and her innocent robes became the sharp and revealing armor of a daedric dark seducer. The Mazken smiled and announced that it had been centuries since she was able to entice such a delicious bout of madness upon a mortal. Dengeir had been an enjoyable group project, but it was so much sweeter to do it all herself.

Galmar raced to cut her down, but Jun shouted with the force of the Tongue and tossed him aside, separating him from his axe. The Nord demanded to know why Jun had not just killed him and instead got him involved with a thrice-damned daedra, to which Jun replied it was simple. If Galmar died it would provide evidence that there was truly some plot against the Stormcloak leadership and Skyrim’s independence by extent. There were many Nords that held the same xenophobic views as the Stone-Fist, with a handful lying dead in the snow nearby, and Galmar helped to fan their flames. The Reclamation _could_ kill every bigoted Nord in the province and leave Skyrim emptied, but such a genocidal campaign would leave the place in shambles and that would not suit their interests. However, it would save everyone work if he convinced the flames to snuff _themselves_ out. It would not be enough to just get rid of the Stone-Fist; they had to discredit his views and character to the extent that anyone with similar ideas would immediately be compared to Galmar the Mad. They had to push him to extremism to make his deeds ever more detestable, so that mere association with the murderer would be reviled by the populace.

Again, all the Nord could ask was why. Jun explained that he was paving the way for a great conflict, and Skyrim was the key to its success. He had been exceptionally careful to kill as few people as possible, and be able to divert blame for the others, to keep the fighting force of the province alive and strong. If he could control their hearts and minds, delivering them a bounty of prosperity and the promise of more in the future, they would gladly lay down their lives for his cause. Through Galmar, he had been offered the tools to do away with dissenting ideas as well. Part of that process involved his death. The Stone-Fist nodded in understanding as Jun extended his axe towards him, handle first. Though before he could grab his weapon, Sojja ran him through with a serpentine dagger and sent his soul unceremoniously to Oblivion, denying him the honor of a warrior's end.

When the sun next rose over Windhelm, it was a bright day. The people filed into the streets to carry about their daily business, though the call of a dragon above shook them from their serenity. Coming from the west, five of the beasts flew in a line and circled around the city. Then, one by one, they landed on the Palace of the Kings, each with a Xiuthan Warden on their back. Lokkunal with Veysan, Faadrathmaar with Keksa, Reinhahlok with Tsuchus, Riigahliiv with Nahkiir, and finally Krahvenaak with Paar Jun and another.

The An-Xileel Occupation Force marched into the gates with a carriage filled with the bodies of the slain Nords from Eldersblood Peak, including that of Galmar. The five Xiuthans jumped down to greet the people of Windhelm and deliver their condolences as the remains were unloaded and taken to the city’s Hall of the Dead. The Nords were shocked and surprised to see that the dragon-riding mask-wearing witch-lizards and their armies of the Stone-Fist’s ramblings were real, though Jun insisted that rumors of his kin had been greatly exaggerated. The replacement Jarl, a fierce woman named Hermir Strong-Heart, accused the Xiuthans of slaughtering the Nords, but Jun revealed he had brought along the only survivor of the group, the fair maiden Sojja. She appeared shaken and unsure, but Jun encouraged her to give her testimony of the events. She claimed that Galmar and his Nords made it to Eldersblood Peak, but once they reached the summit the Stone-Fist flew into a mad rage and believed he was being attacked, unknowingly cutting down his only remaining friends. It was all she could do to pick up one of the fallen’s swords and stab him before he turned on her too. Sojja claimed he was bitterly wounded and furious, and she fled screaming all the way to Morthal to try and escape him. There the Argonians took her in and offered to collect the bodies at first dawn, then deliver them home. True to their word, they found Galmar dead in the snow surrounded by the remains of the only people who trusted him. Sojja believed he was too deep in the clutches of the Mad God Sheogorath to have been saved, and only hoped she had done him and Skyrim a favor by putting him out of his misery.

Jun graciously offered up his uncleaned axe, telling the Nords gathered that they should do their best to remember him as Galmar the War Hero instead of Galmar the Mad, for what died on that mountain peak was but a husk of the warrior he once had been. Jarl Hermir snatched the weapon away from him, stating that the Stone-Fist claimed that a witch-lizard of Jun’s description had been responsible for Ulfric’s death. Jun patiently explained that Galmar had been right that the late Stormcloak had killed two dragons of three before succumbing to his wounds, but he was long dead by the time Jun arrived. Rare was it that dragons allied with each other unless they were faced with a foe too great for one of them, and Jun had tasted the power of their breath on the wind. He and Krahvenaak came to inspect the site of the battlefield and pay respects to whoever had fallen, be they dragon or mortal. Galmar had caught him in the act of conducting an old warrior’s prayer over the body and assumed him responsible, an honest mistake any sensible man overcome with grief could have made. Unfortunately, he was so overcome with righteous fury to protect his friend’s remains that Jun could not explain himself and was forced to leave. Now that he too had died, the Xiuthan could never reconcile with him, though he hoped that perhaps by returning the bodies home he could make amends.

The Jarl was hesitant to believe him, but Jun carried himself with such a solemn respect that she felt honesty behind his words. His sister added that as a token of good faith to the people of Windhelm they wished to give them a gift. On the docks, workers were thrilled to see a huge ship laden with cargo heading down the White River to the city. Lozok stood at the prow of the vessel as it pulled into port and beamed behind his resin face, as the Argonian dockworkers who had fled months ago now appeared on the from below decks and busily began unloading goods of every kind. The Reclamation brought fresh food, exotic alchemical ingredients, merchandise a plenty, and of course barrels and barrels of ale. Shopkeepers rushed to restock their wares and see what new things the Reclamation ship had brought. Jun suggested to the Jarl that they have a grand feast in honor of the warrior Galmar once was, though Hermir was careful to distance herself from his name. Instead, she decided they would feast in memory of all the brave Stormcloak heroes of years past, who first inspired her to take up arms for her homeland.

The Nords celebrated the restoration of trade to their city while the Argonians celebrated an end to the violent animosity between them. Lozok raised a toast to the new Jarl of Windhelm, that she may have a long and prosperous life and grant her people the same. Nahkiir followed with a toast to Skyrim as a whole, land of the hardiest warriors and the heartiest drinkers in Tamriel. Jun concluded with a toast to all the noble lost who defended their freedom from a failed Empire, and the equally noble living who carried on their spirit. Let no tyrant reign over the free children of the North, he decreed.

At long last, it was time to officially put Skyrim under Reclamation control. At their behest, the Moot of Jarls convened to choose a new High King, including the newly crowned Solaf of Falkreath. Balgruuf the Great was the obvious choice, and they unanimously voted for him to take the mantle.

With their new High King, Paar Jun stayed true to his word and summoned the rulers of Skyrim to convene on the 1st of Morning Star, 4E 213. The Mulzeymahhe, the Xiuthan Wardens, the Nordic Jarls, the Orcish chiefs, the Giant Chieftain, and even the Reachmen King all arrived for his summit. Dov perched on rooftops and walls while the rest conducted their business inside. Jun had drawn up an offer for the people of Skyrim to join the Ebonheart Reclamation. It explicitly stated the purpose of the organization: to combine the lands of Skyrim, Morrowind, and Black Marsh in order to protect themselves from the threat of the Aldmeri Dominion and the ineffectual Empire. The Reclamation would instate a policy of freedom of religion including worship of Talos across Skyrim and expel any Thalmor agents or sympathizers within Reclamation lands. The Argonians would offer solders and resources to Skyrim, so long as the Nords assisted in their campaign to re-take Morrowind with the pretense of rebuilding it. It also stated how the holds would be carved up, with the ancient region of Greymoor in western Whiterun restored to hold status for the Giants. Plans were discussed to fortify Sleeping Tree, though the true hold capital would be formed from the historic Fort Greymoor. The Reach would be officially integrated as its own independent Province as well, receiving the benefits of the Reclamation but retaining its autonomy.

With the votes unanimously cast, Paar Jun looked over his collected allies and declared that they had crossed the threshold. The path ahead was glorious, and they would walk it as one. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Book 3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29131821/chapters/71516388


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